


cut to the feeling

by finkpishnets



Category: Days of Our Lives
Genre: Breakfast, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-04 17:24:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15152036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finkpishnets/pseuds/finkpishnets
Summary: “Come on,” Paul says, running a hand through his damp hair and leaving it pleasantly dishevelled. “I’ll buy you breakfast.”





	cut to the feeling

**Author's Note:**

> for the anon who requested "will and paul going on a morning run and having breakfast together."

 

 

Will wakes up to fingers curled around his ankle and Paul’s voice softly repeating his name, which would be lovely if it didn’t feel like he’d closed his eyes three minutes ago.

“Wha—?” he mumbles, burying his face in his pillow and chasing the ends of a very pleasant dream involving Paul’s arms.

There’s a low hum of amusement, and then Paul’s running his hand gently through Will’s hair, and Will presses into it, trying to resist the urge to purr.

“You wanted me to wake you up,” Paul says, voice little more than a whisper. “You were going to join me on my run.”

And, yeah, somewhere in the back of Will’s very cloudy, very content mind he vaguely remembers that. It had seemed like a great idea over dessert and lazy kisses and tangled feet, but when he cracks an eye open there’s no light peeking through the curtains and sleep’s tugging him back under. There should probably be a get out of jail free card attached to anything he suggests when he’s gooey eyed and a little tipsy.

“Ugh,” he says, which is about as much coherence as he can muster.

Paul laughs, shifting his weight off the bed, and Will feels his distance as he crosses the room and starts digging around in the closet. “You don’t have to come,” he says, and the worst part is he _means_ it. Will’s still getting used to being around someone who says what they’re thinking, someone who wears their emotions on their sleeve and refuses to be ashamed of it. It makes Memphis feel like another world, and another puzzle piece settles somewhere in Will’s chest.

“No,” he says, pushing himself up, “no, I’m coming.”

“You sure?” Paul asks, and if Will were more awake he’d throw something at him for sounding so close to laughter.

“M’awake,” he says, and promptly trips over his jeans, still crumpled on the floor from the night before. “Shut up.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Paul says, raising his hands in surrender, and Will flips him off as he stumbles into the bathroom, Paul’s laughter trailing behind him.

By the time he’s brushed his teeth and splashed cold water on his face, Paul’s found Will’s workout clothes and is sitting at the table, patiently scrolling through Spotify on his phone, hair still sleep tousled and eyes soft. Will thinks maybe he could suffer a few less hours of sleep if it means seeing this every morning.

Outside, the night’s still holding on, dew settling beneath their feet and cool air a pleasant shock to the system. Salem’s deserted at this time, silent in a way Will’s not used to, and when he mentions it Paul smiles.

“I like it like this,” he says, breathing still perfectly normal despite his pace. “It could be anywhere.”

And, yeah. Will gets that. Without the rush of familiar people it looks like any other small town in America, and there’s a freedom in that Will can appreciate, knows Paul probably appreciates more having spent most of his life on the road, trading places as easily as most people trade socks.

Will follows Paul’s route, watches the rise and fall of his shoulders out the corner of his eye, and thinks _‘I love you’_ , so easy and amplified in the shade of dawn.

By the time they’ve looped back around, the streetlights are beginning to go out and the world’s started waking up around them. Will’s legs ache and he’s got a stitch in his side, and Paul laughs when he digs his palm into his hip, taking quick, shallow breaths.

“Come on,” Paul says, running a hand through his damp hair and leaving it pleasantly dishevelled. “I’ll buy you breakfast.”

“Sure,” Will says, leaning closer until Paul wraps an arm around his waist, taking some of Will’s weight. “But I’m pretty sure you owe me a massage, too.”

“Oh, do I?” Paul says, low and amused and just suggestive enough for Will’s toes to curl in his sneakers.

“Absolutely,” Will says, turning his head to brush his nose against Paul’s cheek, letting his lips linger, then pulling away completely. “But first, pancakes.”

“Tease,” Paul says, good-naturedly, leading the way towards the cafe, sign only just flipped to ‘open’.

They sit outside, too polite to subject any other potential early customers to the state of them post-workout, and Will persuades Paul to forgo his usual granola and yogurt in favor of French toast and hash browns, drinking their weight in juice and coffee as the sun creeps up around them. Will tangles his feet with Paul’s under the table and props his cheek in his hand to watch Paul’s slow smile, his exercise flush trading places with the happy glow that Will still can’t believe is because of _him_.

Salem comes to life around them, and Paul nods good morning to several passersby; Will couldn’t say who because he’s not paying attention, and he’s sure it comes off as rude, but right now he’s tired and happy and in love, and that feels drastically more important than good manners.

“What?” Paul says, after a while. He’s leant back in his chair, looking full and content, his hair still sticking up and his shirt stuck damply to his chest. Will wants to climb over the table and curl up in his lap.

“Nothing,” he says instead. “We should go home.”

“I could use a shower,” Paul says, wrinkling his nose and digging out cash to cover their bill.

Will hums in agreement, raising a pointed eyebrow instead of making the expected comment about saving water, and Paul laughs and reaches to tangle their fingers together as they leave.

“So,” he says, swinging their arms childishly and making Will laugh in delight as he tries to avoid knocking into the people that seem to have suddenly populated the world, “what do you think? Are you gonna join me again tomorrow?”

“Oh,” Will says, thinking about how much he’s going to ache later and how whole his heart feels, “I think I can be persuaded.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> come chat to me on [tumblr.](http://madroxed.tumblr.com/tagged/my-fic)


End file.
